


One Sour, Two Sweet

by Jest



Category: The Foundling - Heyer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jest/pseuds/Jest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon and Gilly reunite in London after the Battle of Waterloo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Sour, Two Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



Captain Gideon Ware was not a man much inclined to be blue-devilled; however, the cold London rains that had greeted him upon his return from the continent had driven off his customary good humour, and the shut up house on Curzon street had done little to restore it. A brief message had been left by his father informing him that the Duke of Sale had taken ill at Sale Park and, naturally, there could be no thought of making a journey to London under such circumstances.

The week that followed went by in a temper that even the most charitable spirit would have found to be entirely out of proportion with his recent injury, until eventually even Wragby, his stalwart batman, had been driven from the Albany flat.

Gideon spent the remainder of an unhappy morning in his sitting room, smoking cigarillos and feeling ill-treated by family and friends alike. The fire threatened to die in the grate, and the room had grown chilly, but he could not be motivated to get off the settee to stir the coals. As morning turned to afternoon he fell into an uneasy sleep; a sleep that was haunted by the cries of dying men, by fields obscured by smoke, and by the pounding of canon fire.

It was a pounding that woke him, but not the pounding of canons. With a curse he made his way to a window from which he could see the front stoop. The figure standing on the step was small, and appeared to be on the brink of being washed away by the torrent of rainwater cascading off the many capes of his drab green coat.

"Well, well, well," Gideon drawled as he threw open the door. "If it isn't my negligent cousin Adolphus come to see me at last."

Though he had intended the words to be teasing, the true feeling of neglect that he had been nursing all week was all too apparent; his sensitive young cousin faltered as if he had been struck.

"Gilly-" Gideon began, immediately regretting his harsh tone.

"I tried to come the minute I heard you were home, but Uncle Lionel would not hear of it," Gilly interrupted. He gave Gideon a knowing look, squared his shoulders, and pushed his way firmly into the entrance hall.

Gideon's eyes widened slightly. "Well, as good fortune has it, neither of us is to be found at death's door," he said, shutting the door and turning to help Gilly free himself from his wet coat.

Gilly's mouth dropped open slightly. "Uncle Lionel didn't dare write you that," he exclaimed indignantly. "I had only the mildest fever. It wasn't like I was in a _battle_."

"And I truly received only the mildest scratch," Gideon admitted as Gilly's worried eyes swept to his shoulder. "Still, it was kind of my father to relent and give his consent to your coming."

"Oh…" Gilly began with a betraying flush. "Well, that thing is, Gideon, I don't suppose he knows of it yet."

"Adolphous! You haven't slipped away without telling anyone?"

"I left a note, which is more than they deserve! They wouldn't let me come to you!" Two bright spots of colour appeared on his face. "Uncle Lionel insisted you would be fully recovered on the voyage back, but I thought-" His hand flew to Gideon's heart, as if to assure himself that it beat as strongly as ever.

The gesture gave Gideon a tight feeling in his throat.

"It was the most trifling little scratch; nothing for _you_ to concern yourself   
over, my little one." He placed his hand over Gilly's and gave it a gentle squeeze before leading Gilly into the sitting room. "Will you sit, have a bowl of punch with me and tell me what mischief you have got up to while I have been away?"

Gideon listened intently as he set about slicing lemons and measuring sugar. Gilly paid only a careless attention to the _on-dits_ of town, and it was clear that a special effort had been made to gather the stories Gilly now regaled him with. The cadences of Gilly's voice were soothing and familiar, and the pride Gideon felt at being Gilly's first choice of confident never failed to make Gideon's heart glow.

In the mirror over the sideboard he made a careful inspection of Gilly's figure. Most of the boyishness had gone out of Gilly's face while Gideon was away, replaced by a weariness that had no place on a well-to-do young man of twenty years. Gideon wondered for a moment if perhaps Gilly had been as unwell as his retainers had claimed, but quickly cast the thought aside. It had been a many months since Gilly's despondency had had anything to do with his fragile health.

He poured Gilly a glass of punch and sprawled out beside him on the settee. Trifling little scratch or no, Gilly spoke with the determined cheerfulness of one who was visiting a sickbed. Gideon grinned.

The morale-improving chatter dried up at approximately the same time as the punch bowl. Gideon patted Gilly's knee reassuringly. It would all come out soon enough. The trick with Gilly was not to harass him with questions.

The silence dragged on for a long while, almost long enough to cause concern, when at last Gilly sighed. "Gideon, have you ever been in a Thatch End Cottage?" he asked quietly.

"Certainly not," Gideon owned, relieved and slightly amused by the question. "Wherever would I find a Thatch End Cottage?"

"At Rufford. It sounds horribly unpleasant..."

"I've been in a barracks, a field camp, and under my father's roof. I can't see how those who live in Thatch End Cottages have anything to complain of," Gideon replied dismissively.

"But they _do_ complain, Gideon."

"And you feel you must listen to their complaints?" Gideon asked.

"I am their landlord," Gilly explained seriously. "And I would like to be a good one."

"For the moment you are sadly undone, cousin. My father intends to send you abroad to finish your education and it is unlikely that Thatch End Cottages will make up any part of the tour."

Gilly buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"You could always defy him," Gideon suggested.

"But I won't, you know I won't. I'm not assertive. I lack initiative. Uncle Lionel says so all the time and even you must admit it to be true."

"I admit nothing." Gideon stated firmly, and he spitefully hoped that those at Sale Park had not discovered Gilly's note immediately. "I have found that you always contrive to do whatever you set your mind to, and I honour you for it."


End file.
